The Gift
by someblessedmonster
Summary: Gus has an accident and is inspired to change his whole life, but his life is about to change in ways that he never imagined.
1. With Friends Like Shawn

**LEGAL A/N:** _Psych_ and all characters belong to Steve Franks, Tagline Pictures, NBC Universal Television Studios, GEP Productions and USA Network.

**1: With Friends Like Shawn…**

**  
1984**

"Mr. Guster," a cloudy, distant voice called. Darkness was all that eight-year-old Burton Guster could see at first before the world slowly brightened around him. "Mr. Guster, wake up." The soft, displeased voice quickly turned cruel with a snap. "Mr. Guster!"

His dark eyes popped open as he saw a pudgy woman in her sixties with curls of blondish-gray underneath an Anaheim Angels baseball cap standing firmly in front of him with her arms crossed. The teacher glared at him sharply through her dark-rimmed glasses. He glanced over and saw a line of twenty-seven other eight-and-nine-year-olds gazing at him with snickers and smiles. Sitting on a wooden bench on the edge of a baseball field, Gus straightened out, pulling his weight from the brick wall behind him, as he blushed like a red cherry.

"You may be new at this school, Mr. Guster," the teacher – Mrs. Vaughn or something to that effect – hissed, adding to his embarrassment, "but here we don't allow our students to sleep through P.E."

An overweight boy with red hair and freckles burst out into laughter beside him, chuckling through his braces. "Wipe the drool off your face, fartknocker!" the boy, Carter McMahon, blurted out as the rest of the glass erupted into laughs.

After quickly wiping his face off, Gus stared down at the ground with shame. This had to be the worst day of his life. Not only was it his first day in the Santa Barbara Public School System, but he came to school with different colored socks, he was late trying to find the right classroom, and he had lost his lunch sack to the red-haired fat kid that had now just humiliated him in front of the whole class. It had been a horrible day that followed a horrible night – he was so nervous the night before that he had thrown up all over his bedroom and spent most of the night awake in the bathtub.

And now here he sat in the middle of P.E. with three hours left before parents picked their children up from school: tired, hungry, embarrassed, and wishing desperately he could just go home.

"Mr. McMahon! That's no way to speak!" Mrs. Vaughn snapped. "If you're through being the class clown, you have to be the catcher again. It seems Jessica Thrash has some sort of allergy to the glitter we used in arts and crafts. You'll take her place while she's in with the nurse."

Gus looked over at the field to see the other third-grade class waiting impatiently in the sun at base. He'd almost forgotten his least favorite game – baseball. Not that there was anything wrong with the sport itself, just wrong with the fact that he had to play it. And that he failed miserably every single time.

Carter McMahon stood up and sauntered over to the base, picking up the glove left behind, and put it on like a pro. Carter was infamous for being a marvelous baseball player, despite his inability to run very fast. He cracked every pitch so hard with the bat that the other children scrambled to catch it and allowed more than enough time for Carter to jog through every base.

"Mr. Guster," Mrs. Vaughn announced. "You're at bat."

He immediately broke out into a nervous sweat. This was definitely the worst day of his life. Solitare he could do. Jump rope he was practicing with his cousin. He was an awesome speller. But baseball was his weakness. Gus glanced over and saw all the other children staring at him.

"Hurry up, Buster," Carter sneered. "Don't take all day!"

"It's… it's Guster," he stuttered as he stood up from the bench and walked slowly to the base.

"Whatever, _Duster_," he laughed. Half of the class behind him joined in on his laughing, even though it wasn't even that funny. _Duster? Is that the best he can come up with?_ Gus thought as he arrived at the base. "What are you doing?" Carter snapped. Gus glanced at him with a confused expression.

"Mr. Guster," Mrs. Vaughn chimed in with frustration. "Get a bat." More chuckling broke out of the class, as now the other class on the field was laughing too. With a sigh, Gus walked over and grabbed a bat from the glasses-wearing, farsighted bat boy.

Gus walked back over to the base, holding the bat up awkwardly, and before he had time to look at the pitcher a ball flew past his arms and into Carter's glove. "Strike one!" Carter shouted.

"What?" Gus protested. "I didn't even have time to—"

"Mr. Guster, watch the ball!" Mrs. Vaughn declared. Gus looked over at the pitcher as she let another ball fly right past him. He swung the bat like a lumberjack, but he was a mile off.

"Strike two!" Carter announced. "Nice going… uh… _Custer_!" Gus glanced back at him with an angry face, then turned around and faced the blonde-haired pitcher, Jan Haynes, and saw her pulling back a fireball.

Gus gripped the bat furiously as his dark eyes narrowed on the white ball. He was gonna hit it. He was going to show that doofus behind him and all the other mean kids that nobody messes with Burton Guster's name. The ball dashed towards him like a rocket as he pulled the bat back, keeping his eye on the ball. He was going to obliterate that tiny little ball. _Obliterate_. O-B-L-I-T—

A blunt force suddenly cracked the back of Gus' head.

The next thing he knew, he was on the ground. He opened his eyes to see both classes and both teachers standing over him with the one of the school nurses over him. "That was a pretty bad hit you took," the smiling nurse said to him. "You're lucky that bat didn't do any more damage."

"Can I go home?" Gus asked weakly.

"Aw," the nurse grinned warmly as she stared down at him with pity. "No, I don't think that's necessary. It's only another two hours and fifty minutes."

Lying there on the ground, he felt like he was about to cry, which would've only furthered the embarrassment. The nurse grabbed his arms and pulled him up to a stand. He looked over to see Carter rolling on the ground near the dug out away from the crowd, still laughing.

Mrs. Vaughn turned to a young boy with blonde hair in a bowl cut and dirt covering his clothes. "Mr. Spencer, is there anything you'd like to say?"

Eight-year-old Shawn Spencer looked up at Gus with an apologetic expression. He shrugged with sincerity in his green eyes. "I promise, man… I was totally aiming for Carter."

"Mr. Spencer!" Mrs. Vaughn hissed. "That's it, mister, you're going to see the principal! Again! For the second time this week!"

"Aww, please, Mrs. Vaughn, don't call my dad," Shawn pleaded.

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't," the teacher declared.

"I'll give you one reason why I tried to hit Carter with a bat," Shawn bargained, pointing at Gus. "He stole this kid's lunch! And look at him; it's not like he needed it!"

"Are you calling me fat, Spencer?" Carter barked, not laughing anymore. "Is that why you and your little friend tried to hit me with a bat?"

"Oh, wait," Gus declared. "I… I didn't want to hit you with a bat…"

"Yeah, we think you've got a bat up your butt, too!" Shawn challenged.

In a flash, Carter was stomping his way across the field headed for both of them like a Mac truck. "I'll kill you, you little freaks—" Both Gus and Shawn were tackled by the giant third-grade monster as the three boys rumbled and rolled in the dirt – kicking, punching, biting, anything that would take down the opponent. The two teachers and the nurse jumped into the fray and pulled the three boys apart.

With bruises on his face and a throbbing skull from the bat injury, Gus knew that this was the pit of his despair. This was as bad as it could get.

"All of you are going to the principal's office!" Mrs. Vaughn shouted.

_No, this is as bad as it gets_, he realized.

Before he knew it, his shoulder was being pinched by Mrs. Vaughn as she dragged Gus and Shawn through the baseball field towards the principal's office, holding both of them by the shoulders. Gus pulled his mind away from the impending trouble and the aching of his limbs as he glanced over at Shawn to find a smirk on the boy's face. Even though this kid was about to get him into the worst trouble he'd ever been in, he did defend him after all… or at least tried to.

"Thanks for having my back," Shawn whispered to Gus as the two of them were pushed towards the principal's office. "I knew you were a cool dude."

**2006**

At the Psych Headquarters in Santa Barbara, Shawn Spencer was leaned back in his chair with his legs up on the desk in front of him and a box of noodles in front of him. He gazed up at the television set as he mindlessly flipped through stations. The front door opened as Burton "Gus" Guster walked in through the door with a frustrated, annoyed expression as he saw Shawn lounging in the chair.

"Hey, man, you're late for work," Shawn said, lifting another box of noodles up for him to see. "But I got you Lo Mien anyway. Hope you don't mind that I ate some of yours too because I wasn't sure if you were coming back. Didn't want any to go to waste." Shawn pushed another fork-full of noodles into his mouth as Gus glared at him with an unsatisfied face.

"Sorry, I'm late, Shawn," Gus sighed. "But, you see, I had to walk here from the bus stop seven blocks away. It seems I had to take the bus today because apparently somebody took my car last night and forgot to tell me… or even return it." Shawn remembered his mistake as Gus continued on with his sarcastic banter, "I'd go to the police with my problem, but it _seems_ that my car is parked right outside of this office." Gus stared at him bitterly as Shawn gazed back at a loss for words.

"How strange," he responded.

Gus rolled his eyes and closed the door behind him, grabbing the half-eaten box of noodles from the desk and sat down in the other chair. Shawn was already digging in his pocket as he pulled out his cell phone. "Hey, listen to these new ringtones – tell me which one I should use."

Gus took his flip phone, then glanced up at the TV. "What are you watching?" he asked, staring strangely up at the television set.

"_Buffy_," Shawn answered as he took another bite.

Gus looked over at him with a strange expression as he set the phone down. "You actually watch that?" Shawn turned to him with an offended look.

"Gus, it's one of the most brilliantly-written, witty, and painfully-underappreciated shows in television history," Shawn explained as he looked back at Sarah Michelle Gellar on the TV screen. "Plus – one word: _girlfights_!"

Gus scoffed as he shook his head, and opened the box of noodles. He stared down at the empty box. "Shawn!" he snapped. "Did you eat _all_ of these?"

Shawn looked over at him, stunned. "Wow. I was hungry." Gus shot him a glare as he slammed the box down on the desk and stood up angrily. "Dude, what's your problem today?" Shawn asked with confusion.

"Which part?" Gus snapped. "The problem of not having a car or not having a lunch?"

Unaware of what the fuss was about, Shawn held out his box to Gus. "You can have mine if it's gonna bother you _that_ much."

"Don't bother," Gus sneered. "I'll go get my own." He turned around and glanced out the window, past the giant blue PSYCH logo, and saw his Toyota Yaris parked out front. It was from this angle that he could see the giant dent across his front bumper. "Shawn!" Gus said, his heart nearly stopping. "What happened?"

"Oh, I was totally going to fix that," Shawn said, coming to a quick stand. "I just wanna say that it was not my fault—"

"It's a company car!" Gus exclaimed. "Do you understand what I'm gonna have to pay for that?"

"It's not _that_ bad." Shawn tried to diffuse the situation as he walked up to the glass, examining the dent from the inside of the office. He turned around and faced Gus with a hopeful expression. "It was just a tiny fender bender. We'll put some paint on there and you won't even notice."

"My company will notice!" Gus answered. "My paycheck is gonna notice!"

"I'll help you pay for it," Shawn shrugged. "It's not a problem."

"Oh, you're gonna pay for _all_ of it," Gus threatened as he turned around and pointed at Shawn. His sudden flash of anger made him nervous as Gus stepped towards him menacingly.

"Dude, you are making too big a deal out of this," Shawn pleaded. He picked up a lamp off of the desk. "I don't want to have to use violence against you, but you're leaving me no other option."

"That lamp is broken, Shawn!" Gus hissed, annoyed. "You broke that, too, when you were playing with it, remember? Just like you broke my mom's vase at my house and like how you broke my last Bluetooth headset!"

"Last two," Shawn quietly submitted.

"What?"

"Last night your new one kind of fell on the floorboard of the car and—"

"Shawn, give me that!" Gus snapped as he reached over and grabbed the metal part of the lamp near the light bulb and yanked it out of his hands, exposing the wiring. All of the muscles in Gus' arms suddenly jolted and squeezed together as electricity flew through his hand and across his chest. He felt himself falling to the floor and blacked out right before the collision.


	2. Gonna Make a Change in My Life

**LEGAL A/N:** _Psych_ and all characters belong to Steve Franks, Tagline Pictures, NBC Universal Television Studios, GEP Productions and USA Network.

**2: Gonna Make a Change in My Life**

Gus opened his eyes as a wash of bright white light flooded him. A faint beep registered in his ears. He saw in the distance a bouquet of daisies sitting in a vase on a table a few feet away from him. Behind the table, sunlight sparkled down into the white room. His eyes began to travel around the strange area as he heard another beep. They rested on Shawn who stood at the foot of his bed with a grim expression on his face.

"Heya, buddy," Shawn apologetically began.

"Shawn…" he groggily responded. His head was aching as he tried to move his toes and fingers, cords covering his body.

"You're in the hospital, man," Shawn declared gloomily. "You were electrocuted and… you were asleep for some time."

Gus gazed around the hospital room in confusion. He stared around at all the monitors, his apprehension growing. "What's… What's hap—"

"You fell into a coma, Gus," said Shawn. Gus glanced over at him, his fear slowly gripping him. Shawn stared at him with a remorseful frown.

"How… how long…?"

Shawn's heavy eyes fell to the floor as Gus stared at him dreadfully. "I'm sorry," he added, as he lifted his head.

"What's today?" Gus demanded, his heart beginning to beat faster. Last he remembered it was Thursday.

"Friday," Shawn answered. Gus' calmed himself a bit before Shawn then added, "In 2012."

Gus' eyes widened as he sat up in his hospital bed. "What?"

Shawn broke out into a laugh. "Ha! Just kidding ya. You were only asleep for a few hours."

A rush of air filled Gus' lungs again as he relaxed on the bed, but only as much as he could under the aggravating circumstances. "That's not funny, Shawn!" Gus snapped. "You electrocuted me."

"_I_ electrocuted _you_?" Shawn repeated. "If I remember correctly, I was defending myself when _you_ grabbed the lamp from my hand. If you hadn't, I'm pretty sure that we wouldn't be here right now—"

"I wouldn't be here right now if you had grown up when we left the sixth grade," Gus coldly responded. Shawn glanced over at him, taken aback as a flash of hurt filled his expression momentarily.

"Dude, what's your problem?"

"My problem is you!" Gus shouted angrily. His friend stepped back as his brow furrowed. "Shawn, every single day you do something childish like this!"

He shook his head, offended, "But you think it's funny—"

"No, I don't!" he hollered back. "You know why? I'm not a child!" He sat in the bed, flailing his arms as he mocked his friend. "'Gus – let's break into the house! Gus – let's sneak into the crime scene. Gus – let's start our own fake psychic detective agency!"

Shawn glanced around in sudden alarm. "Dude, keep your voice down! Somebody might hear!"

"So let them hear!" Gus exclaimed. "I'm sick of being ignored! I'm sick of hiding everything!"

"Ignored? What's gotten into you?"

"I almost died, Shawn!" he declared. "I could've, but I didn't. This is my chance! I can't be doing this with my life! Don't you see? I can't be hiding from the police – from the truth."

Shawn shook his head in utter confusion. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I'm finished," Gus coldly declared. He sat straight up and pulled off the heart monitors and cords. "I'm done with all these lies." As he came to a stand and the monitors began to sound from losing their host, he glanced over at Shawn and caught his betrayed, saddened expression.

"You're not thinking right," Shawn declared in denial, shaking his head. "Just chill out and we'll go get a sno-cone—"

"I'm serious, Shawn!" Gus barked. "I'm sick of your games and I'm sick of your immaturity!" Shawn stared at him blankly with a darkened expression. Gus calmed down a bit and added with a stern tone, "We're done." He grabbed the bag with his clothes in it and walked out of the room, leaving Shawn alone and helpless to do anything but watch.

This wasn't the first time that Shawn and Gus had quarreled, but something was different this time. Something had changed. A sickness formed in the pit of Shawn's stomach and he knew that Gus was serious and this was the end.

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"Thomas Ruiz," the tin-sounding voice of Principal Snyder declared over the microphone as a wave of tired clapping began. Gus sat back in a metal, folding chair which was uncomfortable enough to begin with and even more uncomfortable through the hour-and-a-half which he had been sitting in it. Five hundred and seventy names and they were only in the Rs.

"Kayla Russell," Snyder announced, unleashing another wash of clapping. Gus rolled his head back, stretching out his neck and pulled at the Honor Society stole which had been irritating the skin around his shoulders. The Santa Barbara High School auditorium had been hot and sticky because of the lack of air conditioning which was making the graduation ceremony brutal and Gus' green robe stick to his skin.

"Edward Sanchez," the principal called. Gus glanced down at his high school diploma in his hands as a small smile of satisfaction crossed his face. Twelve years of hard work and he finally accomplished this tiny piece of paper. The sparkling honor society and national merit seals shined up to him with their own sense of pride.

"Lester Schultz…"

"I earned this," Gus whispered to himself happily. "Now that I don't have any distractions like Shawn around there's no telling what I can do." Right as he said that, he looked to his right to see Shawn sitting in a chair without his graduation robe on. "Shawn?" Gus exclaimed. "What are you doing without your robe? And what are you doing in the 'G' section? And what are you doing in the honor students section? You _graduated_?"

"Dude, we've got to talk," Shawn declared with a sense of worry. "I know you're mad at me for the lamp thing, but this is crazy."

"I've made up my mind, Shawn," Gus said firmly, shaking his head with resolve.

"Jerrold Smith…"

"Gus, come on," Shawn pleaded with sincerity. "I know I might have been acting a little off center lately, but I know we can work this out."

"What is there to work out?" Gus snapped.

"Lindsey Sowell…"

"What about Psych?" Shawn declared. He stared at Gus with a 'come-on-be-sensible' expression. "Now, Gus, we already talked about the lease—"

"What part of this isn't making any sense to you!" Gus snapped again, his eyes flashing as he glared at Shawn. His friend was once again silenced and stunned. "I can't do this anymore, Shawn. I won't. I told you – this friendship is done."

Snyder's voice came over the P.A. system, "Shawn Spencer…" The rush of clapping never came. Shawn and Gus stared at each other in silence, each mulling over the charred remains of their history. "Shawn Spencer?"

A quake inside of his arm snapped Gus out of his daze. His eyes fell on his right arm and he felt the jolt of electricity as the muscles contracted. Snyder called again in confusion, "Shawn Spen—" A loud shriek rang out from the speakers, the principal's voice being drowned out by the feedback. The graduating class covered their ears in pain.

Gus stared around in confusion as the people around him began to cry out, the never ending shrill feedback consuming their thoughts. He glanced to the right to see Shawn still sitting in the chair beside him, unaffected by the sound just as Gus was, but he seemed to be unaware of its presence as well. Shawn gazed at Gus with a disturbed, saddened look, his heart stirring with the pain of betrayal.

The sound of the feedback was overtaken by a different sound – the penetrating, sharp ringing of bells in a melody. Voices of women in a chorus chimed in, blaring over the speaker system as they sang along with the melody, "_Dum da dada dum da dada do do do do da…_"

The song was immediately identified in Gus' mind as he glanced back at Shawn to see him completely unaware, still gazing at Gus with confusion. The women known as the Chordettes began to sing together in a haunting harmony, following the Circle of fifths, "_Mr. Sandman… Bring me a dream… Make him the cutest that I've ever seen… _"

Like the cracking of thunder, a rain of gunfire exploded from every angle. Gus gazed around with wide, horrified eyes as every last one of his high school graduating class was cut down by a shower of hot lead. A wave of crimson red encircled him, almost suffocating him, as he squeezed his eyes closed tightly, knowing for certain that he would die.

In the span of a heartbeat, the explosions stopped, and only the echoing female voices could be heard over the P.A. system. "_Mr. Sandman… I'm so alone… Don't have nobody to call my own…_"

He stared around being the last man alive in the middle of a massacre. Gus glanced over beside him and saw Shawn's lifeless body, still sitting upright in the uncomfortable chair. The bright red stain covered his chest and only got bigger in his sight. He stared at the body of his best friend in horror being the last man alive…

Gus' dark eyes drifted up in a daze and saw a young blonde woman standing near the entrance of the auditorium, several yards away. As hard as he tried, he couldn't see her face, as if a cloudy curtain blurred her facial features. As if they weren't even there.

Wearing her blonde hair in pigtails and wearing a light blue checkered dress that came to her knees over a white collared shirt, the faceless woman stared at the sole survivor through the see of blood. He could feel the low rumbling of fear inside of his head as he stared at the strange woman.

"For the good of the world, Gus," the stranger whispered in a soft voice. The rumbling turned into a crashing roar inside of his mind as Gus stared motionlessly, chained to the chair helplessly.

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With a deep gasp, Gus sat straight up in his bed, his heart beating erratically. He gazed around at his darkened bedroom as sweat poured down his face into his eyes. It was just a dream. He looked around and his eyes froze on the doorway to his bedroom, the door standing wide open. The silhouette of a woman in a knee-length sundress stood in the doorway, staring at him through the hallway. With another blink, the vision faded and disappeared.

It was a dream. Wasn't it?


	3. Betrayed

**3: Betrayed**

Interim Police Chief Karen Vick sat back in her leather maternity chair as she stared at Gus from across her desk the next morning. A baffled expression was planted firmly on her face. "I'm trying to help you, Mr. Guster," she declared with a skeptical tone, "but I just don't understand where this sudden concern is coming from."

"It's not something you need to understand," Gus pleaded with frustration. "All I'm asking is that you take Shawn off of all of the cases he's on."

"Trust me," said Karen, "I would much rather protect the integrity of my department and do so, but he is helping. His abilities have solved every case put before him… and some that we haven't."

From outside the office window, Detective Carlton Lassiter stood by his desk sipping coffee as he stared at Gus intently inside of the chief's office. It was strange that only one of them was there this time, but not unexpected. His junior detective partner Juliet O'Hara strolled up to the desk carrying a box of files that her partner requested. Pausing, she noticed his distraction and glanced over into the chief's office.

"Is that Gus?" she asked in confusion.

"Yep," Lassiter declared with a smile.

Juliet glanced around, her expression brightening up. "Oh, is Shawn here?"

"Nope," Lassiter grinned mischievously. "He's here alone."

She blinked at him with an incredulous look. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"It means that I was right all along," Lassiter explained. "They had a spat. And now the other's here to turn his ex-buddy in."

"Turn him in for what?" Juliet declared with frustration.

Lassiter flashed his eyes at her. "For lying to the police and interfering with investigation!"

"Shawn's right, you know," Juliet scoffed. "What's it gonna take for you just believe that he's psychic?"

"Because he's not!" Lassiter harshly whispered. "What is wrong with all of you people? You, that idiot McNabb, that nutcase desk sergeant with the dead grandmother, even Karen—"

"Chief Vick," Juliet corrected.

"_Everybody_ in here is playing along to the sound of his flute!" Lassiter complained.

"Well, I believe that there are some things that you just can't explain."

"I _can_ explain them. And let me explain what's about to happen next. Now that the two of them are separated, they're both weak. Spencer will crumble and slip up on his lies now that no one's there to cover him."

Juliet shook her head with a disapproving frown, "Detective…"

He glanced over at her angrily as he snapped, "Eventually, Detective O'Hara, you have to grow up and realize there's no such thing as magic." He lifted his weight off of the desk and began to march towards Karen Vick's office.

Karen's hand was on her face with exhaustion. "Mr. Guster," she sighed, "Shawn Spencer volunteers his time; it's not like we can fire him."

"You have to keep him away from this stuff!" Gus pleaded with growing agitation.

"Maybe if I had some idea of what your concern is…"

"It's not something I can explain," Gus declared. "All I can say is that he's in trouble and it's not safe."

"You're darn right he's in trouble," Lassiter announced as he marched through the door.

Karen glared up at him. "Excuse me, Detective. _Mr. Guster and I_ are having this conversation."

"Chief, we apologize," said Juliet and she rushed up to Carlton and yanked on his arm warningly. "We were just headed out on assignment."

"It's not safe for him!" Gus exclaimed.

"For Shawn?" Juliet asked with concern.

"Are you saying that Mr. Spencer is in some sort of danger?" Karen asked, desperately trying to make sense of his worries. "Has somebody made a threat?"

"I don't know," Gus tried to explain. "I mean, no… but…"

"How did you get this information, Gus?" Juliet asked. "Did Shawn have a vision?"

"Shawn doesn't know," Gus answered. He shook his head, "But you've got to believe me; he needs protection."

"We'll provide him with as much protection as we can," Juliet offered.

"Yes, Mr. Guster," Karen declared. "We _are_ the police. That's what we do. There is no safer company."

"Are you sure he'll be safe with you?" Gus asked restlessly.

"We'll do everything we can," Karen answered, "if we have the right information. Now do you have any proof that something's going to happen?"

Gus rolled his eyes in agitation. "I can't tell you how I know I just _know_."

"So, what, are _you_ a psychic now?" Lassiter laughed mockingly.

"That's stupid!" he snapped back as he glared at the detective in the doorway. Lassiter's brows rose as he glanced over at Karen who had an equally surprised expression. Gus immediately recognized the dangerous hole that he stepped in.

"Which part?" Lassiter pried.

"Shut up, Carlton," Karen threatened as she shot Lassiter a livid look, coming to a stand, "and let me handle this!" With a heated expression, he withdrew his bold attitude as he crossed his arms tightly and stood silently in the doorway. Karen's eyes burned on Gus, her temper slipping, "Mr. Guster, are you implying that you don't believe in psychics?"

"Not… exactly," Gus shook his head. "I-I mean, that's not exactly what I… I mean."

"Then what _do_ you mean?" Karen demanded.

Gus stared at her like a deer in the headlights before he heard Shawn's voice from outside of the office, "I'd like to ask that same question." Lassiter and Juliet turned around to see Shawn standing behind them. Gus whipped around and viewed the look of confusion and betrayal that was slowly melting into burning anger.

"Shawn," Gus began, "we have to talk."

"I seem to remember that _you're_ the one who didn't want to talk," Shawn replied bitterly. He glanced around the room. "And this more looks like a meeting that was called _without_ me." He turned back to Gus with a stern look. "Why do I get the feeling that you're not planning my surprise birthday party?"

"You can't take any more cases," Gus flatly declared. He came to a stand and gazed at his friend with a deep concern. "I'm serious about this. _Please_ believe me."

Nervously, Shawn glanced over at the chief who stood behind her desk, looking anything but amused. "Gus," he responded softly, trying to play it off, "you know that I have… a gift… which I should share for the good of the world. I need to use it to make the world a better place."

Gus stared at him as he considered his words, his friendship clashing with the horrifying visions of his nightmare. "I agree," Gus declared, then turned around and faced the chief with an expression of resolve. "Shawn's lying to you. He's been lying to you since the beginning." Shawn's jaw dropped as he continued, "He's not a psychic and he never was. He just has really good perception. Anybody could've come up with the clues that he found if they'd looked hard enough."

Gus glanced back at him and saw Shawn's hurt and livid expression.

"Shawn?" Juliet said with shock and betrayal. "Is that true?" He couldn't answer and could only stare at Gus motionlessly. Her eyes fell to the floor, feeling like some foolish school girl.

"They confessed!" Lassiter exclaimed with amazement. "My god, Chief! What else do you need to hear? Arrest him now!"

"Mr. Spencer?" Karen said, bewildered. Shawn's eyes came off of Gus for a moment as he gazed at the chief, not with another lie, but with a shamed expression. Karen's eyes fell to the table heavily, deceived and most of all, disappointed. Shawn glanced back at Gus who had his own saddened, apologetic expression.

"Get out," Karen whispered, her eyes on the desk.

"What?" Lassiter and Gus both exclaimed.

"Get out of my office, Mr. Spencer, and out of my building," Karen declared strongly as she lifted her head and crossed her arms.

In utter shock, Lassiter asked with amazement, "You mean you're not going to arrest him?"

"If you don't stop telling me how to do this job," Karen shouted in a snap of rage, "you can leave your badge and gun on the desk right now!" Lassiter was silenced for the final time. With heavy eyes, she glanced over at Shawn and bitterly explained, "You've made a terrible mistake, Mr. Spencer, but you did a lot of good while you were here. So consider this bit of common courtesy as a thank you. You walk away now and you stay away from my department. And if you so much as jaywalk I'll throw you away for a long time." Coldly, she added, "Do we have an understanding?"

Shawn looked away from her with guilt. "Yes, ma'am."

"Wait, I thought you said you were going to protect him," Gus protested.

"I am," she angrily declared to Gus. "Now get out."

Without another word, Shawn turned around and exited the office, not able to look at Juliet or Lassiter. He paused as soon as he got outside of the room and saw at least a dozen other officers listening and watching the scene which had just played out, including Officer McNabb and the desk sergeant that believed so deeply in Shawn's ability to communicate with her grandmother. All of them turned away from him in disgust, walking away with less respect for him than they would have given a common criminal.

Shawn walked through the room, dragging his crushed self behind him on a chain. "Shawn!" he heard Gus call from behind him. "Shawn, wait a second." He continued to walk in a straight line of shame towards the exit.

"What more do you want from me?" Shawn said with an icy tone.

Gus appeared next to him with a concerned, remorseful face. "Look, I know you don't understand, but there's a good reason—"

"I don't care," Shawn cut him off with acid on his tongue. Suddenly, the P.A. system in the police station came alive with the strident screeches of feedback. Gus froze in place with horror as he gazed up at the speakers as female voices began to sing, "_Mr. Sandman… Bring me a dream… Make him the cutest that I've ever seen…_"

A jarring crack filled the room and Gus jumped from the explosive sound. He glanced over at Shawn who was stopped and he slowly turned around. A stain of red filled grew on the left side of his chest, consuming the green in his polo shirt. Shawn stared down at the blood, watching it spread, and his head lifted as he faced Gus with crimson-tainted lips.

"Shawn!" Gus cried in horror.

In the blink of an eye, time had reverted back to just a few seconds ago. "What more do you want from me?" Shawn said with an icy tone. Gus, still walking beside Shawn, glanced down at his chest to see that the bullet wound was gone. He glanced around with wide, scared eyes, waiting for the horrifying song to start again, but it never came.

"Shawn, there's something I've got to—"

"I don't care," he said, cutting him off with acid on his tongue. Shawn sped up and walked ahead of his ex-friend, leaving Gus behind as he disappeared from the room. 

Nothing had changed. It was still coming.


	4. For the Good of the World

**4: For the Good of the World**

Shawn stood leaning over the oak desk where an open cardboard box sat on the corner filled with the trinkets and office supplies that he spent over $200 at Office Max on. He picked up a purple gelly-grip industrial stapler and tossed it down into the open box with a deflated sigh. A bitter, disappointed expression was cemented on his face as he tried to shove long memories out of his head.

His green eyes moved up to the giant Psych window overlooking the ocean as he saw Gus rush up with a piece of computer paper in one hand and a giant pineapple with a pink bow on it in the other. Shawn rolled his eyes; it was the last person he wanted to see.

Gus burst through the front down with a rapid tone. "Shawn!" he exclaimed. "I gotta tell you something!" He was silent as a statue as he picked up the broken table lamp and placed it into the box without looking at him for a moment. Gus set the pineapple on the desk as he lifted up the paper for Shawn to see. "I read about this one dude up in Maine who got in a car accident and went into a coma," he exclaimed. "When he woke up, he developed psychic abilities. _Real_ psychic abilities. The guy's never wrong."

Shawn reached over and grabbed the pineapple off of the desk without looking at Gus. He lifted it over the trashcan and dropped it down into the bucket, pineapple fragments dispersing out of the plastic wastebasket and onto Gus' pant legs. After hearing the satisfying crash, Shawn went back to his stone-faced work.

"I'm just saying," Gus began again, not surrendering, "after I woke up in the hospital, I've been seeing things, Shawn. Having dreams that I can't explain. Like the first time, we were in the middle of our high school graduation and that 'Mr. Sandman' song came on out of nowhere and then somebody started shooting and everyone except me was dead. And then it happened again in the police station – but this time I wasn't dreaming – and the song came on and you were shot. Every time it ends with you getting killed. It's so real, Shawn! More real than anything." Gus stared at his friend who was completely unresponsive to his words. "You've got to understand!"

"I understand," Shawn relinquished calmly.

A wave of relief rushed over Gus. "You do?"

"Yeah," he nodded and simply reevaluated the situation. "You're concerned that I'm in peril. You think that my life is in danger. So you decided to take action by completely ruining my life and humiliated me in front of everyone. Most people would call that kinda pointless, but I find it pretty point-y."

"Shawn, I didn't mean to do that."

"Then what _did_ you mean to do?" Shawn asked, a flash of anger engulfing him. "Get me arrested! Thrown in jail! You always complain that I think this whole thing is a game – _you're_ the one who's playing with my _life_!"

"I'm trying to _save_ your life!" Gus snapped. "It was very simple – if you're in jail, how are you gonna get shot?"

"I can't hear this anymore," Shawn said with disgust, shaking his head coldly as he closed up the cardboard box. "You want to tell somebody about your bad dreams? Get a nanny."

"What about the psychic from Maine!"

"Here's a good idea. Why don't you call and ask if you can be his sidekick? Unless the back-stabbing position has already been filled…"

"You're not hearing me! You're making a mistake!"

"No, I'm done with mistakes!" Shawn snapped as he lifted up the box and walked to the door. He stopped and looked back at Gus with an angry, hurt expression. "The biggest mistake I ever made was believing that I could trust you!"

Gus heard Shawn's voice from the other corner of the room. "Dude, you are making too big a deal out of this," Shawn pleaded. Gus looked over near the Psych window to see himself and Shawn standing next to the desk as Shawn picked up the broken lamp. "I don't want to have to use violence against you, but you're leaving me no other option."

Gus blinked in utter confusion as he stared at himself and Shawn from the past, right before his electrocution.

"That lamp is broken, Shawn!" the past Gus hissed, annoyed. "You broke that, too, when you were playing with it, remember? Just like you broke my mom's vase at my house and like how you broke my last Bluetooth headset!"

The Gus from the present glanced back at Shawn, standing near the door with the box in his hands. "Do you see that? It's us!" Gus declared, pointing at the desk with wide, stunned eyes.

Shawn from the present glanced over to the desk, but nobody was there. He looked back at Gus with a frustrated expression. "What are you _talking_ about?"

"Why are you still trying?" another familiar voice said from behind Gus. He turned around to see Lassiter sitting on an armchair covered in silver paint with a tin funnel on top of his head. He was the Tin Man from The Wizard of Oz. Gus rubbed his eyes as he stared at Detective Carlton Lassiter as the beloved children's character.

"What the hell?" Gus blurted, at a loss.

Beside Lassiter, a woman with her blonde hair in pigtails wearing a light blue checkered dress which came down to her knees was crouched down on the floor digging around in the mini fridge in the corner. She stood up and faced Gus, but this time she had a face that could be seen clearly. It was Juliet O'Hara dressed as Dorothy.

"Your friend's not gonna come around," Tin Lassiter said of the present-Shawn who continued to stand impatiently in the doorway.

"Don't say that," Dorothy-Juliet snapped at her partner. She looked at Gus with a warm, caring and hopeful expression. "You have to keep searching for the rainbow."

A crack rang out like a bolt of thunder, the familiar sound of gunfire. Gus recognized it instantly as he looked over at the Shawn from the present near the doorway. Shawn gazed down at his chest to see the stain of blood growing from near his heart outwards. He lifted his head and gazed at Gus with lost, painful eyes as he fell to the floor, his legs giving out from beneath him. The cardboard box tumbled to the ground, the articles of which scattered across the floor.

"Shawn!" Gus cried out with terror.

"_Mr. Sandman_," Lassiter and Juliet began to sing in unison as Lassiter snapped his fingers to the beat, "_Bring me a dream… Make him the cutest that I've ever seen…_"

Gus looked up and glanced back at them with a horrified face. He then turned to himself and Shawn from the past, still near the desk as Shawn held the broken lamp up high.

"Last two," Shawn from the past quietly submitted.

"What?"

Tin Lassiter looked over at Gus as he held a piece of sliced pineapple in his hand and slowly chomped away, smacking his words. "Think about it, Burton," said Lassiter, "what's the point of saving him anyway? We both know the guy's an utter failure and that's what he'll always be."

"Huh?" Gus exclaimed as he stared at Lassiter in confusion. "We don't know that!"

"Sure, we do," Tin Lassiter shrugged. "He's a slacker. He's totally immature. He doesn't stick with anything. I mean, how long you think he'll do this psychic detective thing?" Lassiter took another bite. "I mean laziness like that can only lead to unhappiness. You've done him a favor, the way I see it. He's better off dead."

"Are you out of your damn mind?" Gus exclaimed angrily. He pointed a finger at Lassiter. "You _do_ need a woman."

Tin Lassiter gave him a sneer, then replied, "He's unproductive and unnecessary. He's wasting his life, your life, and everyone else's."

"That's not true," Gus declared. He looked down at Shawn's torn body, his head tilted to the side and his green, vacant eyes wide open as they stared blankly at the wall. The pool of blood around Shawn continued to grow in size, a river being unleased through a broken dam that could never be repaired.

Gus looked up at Tin Lassiter and Dorothy-Juliet desperately. "It's people like him the world needs more of," he declared as he pointed down at his friend's body with stinging eyes. He glanced over to the other part of the room and saw past-Shawn sheepishly reply to past-Gus.

"Last night your new one kind of fell on the floorboard of the car and—"

"Shawn, give me that!" past-Gus snapped as he reached over for the lamp, grabbing Shawn's arm.

Present-Gus looked over at the desk to see past-Shawn's cell phone lying near the edge. He remembered that Shawn had mentioned something about a new ringtone package. And then it hit him.

"For the good of the world, Gus," Juliet replied softly. She sat down on the arm of the armchair with her hands clasped in her lap. "You have a gift now. You should use that gift to make the world a better place."

Gus stared at her and nodded slowly, the events falling into place. "I agree." Gus looked down at present-Shawn's body as he kneeled down beside his brother. "Saving Shawn makes the world a better place." He reached down and grabbed the wet wound over Shawn's heart.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

With a flash, Gus stood in the middle of the Psych office near the bay window with Shawn holding the broken lamp protectively. Gus' eyes went from side to side in utter confusion. He'd gone back in time to the moment before he grabbed the lamp. Gus looked over Shawn's shoulder to the boardwalk across the street. A figure was crouched down behind a bench in front of the bushes with a long object protruding out of the bench.

On the desk behind them, Shawn's cell phone began to blare the most annoying ringtone ever: "_Mr. Sandman… Bring me a dream…_" He flinched at the sound of the female voices singing in unison, but only for a half second.

"Shawn, get down!" Gus shouted as he grabbed Shawn instead of the lamp and threw him to the floor. A half-second later, the Psych bay window shattered as a bullet from a rifle sliced through the glass. Shawn and Gus, now both on the floor, shielded themselves from the rain of glass shards that fell over them.

Shawn could hear screaming from outside as he looked around in shock, the broken lamp rolling around on the floor with them. "Oh, my god, Gus!" Shawn declared, bewildered and stunned out of his mind. "Did you see that?" He looked over to see blood spilling out onto the floor as Gus sat up against the bottom of the desk holding his left arm in throbbing agony. "Gus!" he cried out in terror. He sat up and grabbed his brother's arm, reaching up for the cell phone on the table with the free hand.

"It's okay, Gus," Shawn nervously declared. "Everything's gonna be fine…" Gus looked over at the lamp rolling across the floor as he began to crawl with one arm towards it. "No, no, no," said Shawn, protectively. "Don't try to move!" Gus gazed down at the exposed wiring near the bulb and grabbed the plastic handle. "What are you doing?" Shawn asked in confusion.

With one injured arm at his side and the other holding the lamp, Gus threw his weight against the wall. "Get against the wall!" he ordered. The front door of the Psych office swung open wide, being kicked in from the outside. A tall, thin man wearing a gray muscle t-shirt that exposed his ornate arm tattoos and dirty blue jeans rushed in through the door with a mess of long, blonde hair following him beneath a green bandanna worn as a headband. The crazed man gazed around until he found Shawn and Gus on the floor. He lifted the M40 Sniper Rifle in his hands up and aimed at Shawn for a kill shot, but Gus swung the lamp and stabbed the bulb into the denim leg of the shooter.

He hollared in agony as a surge of electricity travelled up his leg and through his body, bringing him down like a ton of bricks. He crashed to the wooden floor and lay there unmoving as the two friends stared at their attacker in stunned silence. Shawn glanced over at Gus, then looked back at the fried body of the sniper. Gus held the wound on his arm as he breathed a sigh of blessed relief, leaning back agaisnt the wall and closing his eyes.

Shawn stared at the body, then looked over at Gus. "What the hell was _that_?"

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"All right, Mr. Guster," a doctor declared, "you're good to go." Gus sat on the end of a hospital bed in the emergency room as the doctor sewed the final stitch into his upper arm. Gus looked over at Shawn who stood nearby with a silent, unnerved expression which he had worn since they had left the office an hour-and-a-half ago. The doctor placed a bandage over Gus' wound as he explained, "No major damage here. You're gonna be fine." He looked over at Shawn. "No need to worry, really. He's very lucky. I'll be right back with the discharge papers."

As he exited the emergency room they looked over to see Karen Vick walk in, holding her pregnant belly with a tired expression. "I'm glad I found you two," she declared.

"Me too," Shawn replied. "Can you tell me why Axel Rose tried to kill us?"

"Actually, he was after you, Mr. Spencer," Karen declared. "We ID'd the body as William J. Nilsson. He was a third suspect that we had never taken into consideration."

"Suspect of what?" Gus asked.

"Robbery," Karen answered, glancing over at Shawn. "He's the second partner of the electronics store owner that you ID'd when you were first brought to our attention. Neither of the two had said anything to indicate that there was another. Turns out Nilsson heard of you somehow and wanted to get rid of you before you had another… vision… which would incriminate him." Karen nodded at Shawn with a smile. "Lucky he didn't kill one of you, right?"

"It's not luck," Gus shook his head with a half-shrug. "It's Shawn's gift." Shawn glanced over at his friend, even more unnerved than before.

Karen looked over at Gus. "I'm glad to see you're all right. I'll call you with more details later." She turned around and exited the room, leaving the two of them behind. Shawn stepped over to the doorway and watched her disappear down the hall, then he looked back at Gus with a stunned expression.

"Dude…" he declared, amazed. "How… Did… You…Do it?"

"Well," Gus tiredly sighed. "It's a pretty long story. You see, in an alternate reality, I grabbed that broken lamp and was jolted with electricity which activated some sort of psychic ability in my brain which allowed me to live in a vision of the future without my knowing it, all the while giving me clues that you were going to die. Once I realized that I was in a vision, I was brought back to the past, right before the moment of my touching the lamp and I was able to save you. It all involved a doo-wop song, you repeatly getting shot, and Lassiter as the Tin Man and Juliet dressed up as Dorothy."

Shawn stared at him blankly with a brief loss of words. "Whoa," he breathed. "Was she hot?"

A grin stretched Gus' face as he stood up from the hospital bed and grabbed his ruined blazer jacket off of the chair. "I'll explain more over pineapple smoothies."  
The two of them began to walk side-by-side into the hallway. "I don't believe it, man. There's no way I could ever doubt your loyalty. I mean, what best friend can say that he had a psychic vision and electrocuted another man for his best friend?"

"I can," Gus proudly nodded.

"And because you're so loyal," Shawn continued, "this means you're paying, right?"

Gus' smile faded. "What the hell gave you that idea?"

Shawn stared up at him as his face fell flat. "Oh, come on, dude; don't ruin the moment—"

He stopped speaking as his cell phone went off. "Mr. Sandman… Bring me a dream…"

"Oh, wait," Shawn said, reaching for his phone only to have it snatched out of his hands by Gus. He pulled back the phone with his uninjured arm and slammed it against the wall, smashing it to pieces and killing the music right away. Shawn stared at the reminant of his phone with jaw agape as he looked up at Gus, stunned.

Gus gazed down at him and declared passionately, "I hate that stupid-ass song!" He turned away from Shawn and continued to walk down the hallway.

Shawn looked down at his broken phone, then looked down the hallway at Gus. "When I asked you to help me choose a ringtone I didn't mean to do it like that!" he called out in frustration. "Dude!" he shouted with an incredulous tone, then rushed to catch up to Gus.


End file.
